100 Days of Coraline
by ACEo'SPADES
Summary: 100 prompt challenge. Series of one-shots. Will try to upload each day. Rated T for safety, but it's mainly K . I freaking love Coraline! LATEST UPDATE: Ch20 Shade.
1. Beginnings

Just a few things you should know:  
**1)** This is one of those 100-prompt things, and for my personal pleasure, and to just get writing again. I will try to post each day, but I am making no promises.  
**2)** The Coraline oneshots will be based from the movie's perspective, not the book, simply b/c the movie has more plotholes =) (not offense, Selick...)  
**3)** This will not have any romance between Wybie & Coraline. Call their "moments" what you like, but there will be none of this BF/GF stuff.  
**4)** If you happen to be one of the Avatar fans that I usually write stories for, I'm sorry but this is not Avatar. =/  
**5)** I don't own _Coraline._

* * *

**Beginnings.**

Coraline scowled as she saw her favorite items being taken down the stairs of their apartment. She groaned at the movers as they loaded her stuff up on the giant rail. And she even cursed a little as she saw them carelessly shove her most prized possessions in the back of the large, orange moving van.

Fortunately, her mother either didn't hear or didn't care.

Her best friends were out of the way of the movers, on the rail of the second story of the apartments. They watched the hustle and bustle with Coraline, whose mouth was a thin line of disappointment and annoyance and utter disdain. She couldn't turn to face them, and instead glared at her mother, father, and any one of the poor movers who happened to look up at her small form. But despite her ugly mood, her friends stayed right next to her the whole time, just as she hoped they would.

Finally, it came time to say goodbye. She couldn't face them, for she knew she might cry; Coraline put her arms around her two friends, one on either side of her. Bringing their heads close to hers, she whispered in a small voice, "Are you coming this summer?"

The tall, thin boy smirked, his body bending down to her size. "'Course, Coraline. We're still the Three Trolls, aren't we?"

She looked over at his cramped form, his neck pulled down under her arm, before replying, "Hurry up and shrink, so I don't have to look up at you anymore." He chuckled.

"We'll miss you," said the girl.

Coraline nodded her head, and gave a fragment of a smile.

"Coraline!" The sharp tenor of her mother's voice rang out, unaware of having interrupted the three. "It's time to go!"

The blue-haired girl rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. With heavy hearts, they gave each other one last tight squeeze, and let go. They knew Coraline was not fond of physical signs of affection like hugs and kisses, so they made no extra attempt.

She walked down the stairs towards her expectant mother, who, when she realized her daughter was indeed complying, got into the driver's seat. Coraline opened the backseat door, and in one simple motion she sat down and slammed it shut.

Her mother turned around to look at her briefly, but after seeing the upset look on her daughter's face as she buckled up, decided not to say anything. She revved up the car, and in seconds they were moving out of the parking lot.

Turning around in her seat to look back through the window, Coraline saw her friends waving madly at her, still up on the second story railing. Coraline gave two small waves of her hand, smiled in a despairing way, and shifted back down into her seat.

"Or-ye-gan, here we come!" Said her father hopefully, but Coraline placed her elbow on the side of the car, propped her chin up with her hand, and said nothing. She missed her old home in Pontiac already, and as old familiar hangouts passed before her eyes, she did not wish to talk about beginning a new home, new friends, new life in Ashland, Oregon.

But she refused to look back either. She might've cried.


	2. White

**White.**

Coraline hated white. It wasn't black. It wasn't even a _color_. It was the feeling of being alone, empty. The absence of color, of anything. Just as cold and dull and hollow as the place the Other Mother hadn't bothered to finish.

Which was exactly why she didn't bother to fill up that blank piece of paper with a story for school. Especially to answer that age-old question that tire students in writing it, and bore teachers in reading it: "What did _you_ do over the break?"

_Pft_. As if they'd believe her. And what, did the teachers think they were in kindergarten? Besides, once she started, she was pretty sure she would get bored with her own story and go out on a different adventure anyway. She wasn't fond of documenting. If she had her own TV show, where people like the Crocodile Man go out and explore with a team of camera-men, she would not, repeat _not_, be one of the cameramen.

So when Wybie sat down in the desk next to her on their second day back to school, she was somewhat surprised to find his paper full of his untidy scrawl.

"Gee, Wybie, what could _you_ have written about?"

"Our week off." He replied. Then he peered over at her blank, white piece of paper. "...Didn't you?" He asked shakily.

"No. Didn't have time." She said, looking over lazily at him, her chair tipped back on two legs, hands behind her head. "Wait a second, where'd you find the time? You were with me all day yesterday..." she smirked, "_stalker_." And she pounded him one in the arm.

Wybie winced, rubbing his arm. "Oh, ummm..." Wybie trailed on. In truth, he had spent most of last night, all the way up until 9:30 (one full hour after his bedtime) writing it. Unlike Coraline, Wybie was able to write about his small break. Ashland Middle School had gotten a full week off, much to everyone's delight, for their semiannual Teacher Conferences. It was during this time that the Jones family moved into his grandma's Pink Palace. And all the best memories were still fresh in his head.

"Well, couldn't you write about moving here?" Wybie suggested.

"Are we getting graded on this?" Coraline asked.

"Yeah..."

"Hmmm...Coraline said, looking at the door to their classroom. The teacher wasn't in yet.

"Yeah, I'll do that. Good job, Wybie." Immediately, she took up a her favorite blue pen and scribbled quickly, talking as she wrote: "This week...I moved here... the trip was long... and boring." She looked up at Wybie. "Any more ideas?"

"Uhhh... what about_ me_?"

"Oh, yeah, right." She turned back to her paper. "I met a kid... who's annoying... and a stalker." Then in big, capital letters she wrote below it "THE END".

"Thanks!" she told Wybie, who scowled.

As the teacher went around to collect and check off papers, Coraline glanced over at Wybie's paper again. Mildly curious, she just barely glimpsed two words near the top of his page, as the teacher picked it up: _new friend_...

Coraline looked down at her own paper, which had only filled up three lines, four if you counted her large _THE END_. The rest of it was a blank, empty white.

"Caroline?" The teacher asked. "Is that your paper?" The teacher looked doubtful, what with less than half of the paper written on.

Coraline looked down at her paper, back up at her teacher briefly, and was about to say Duh! But she did something else. "One sec, just need to add something..."

Quickly, she wrote after "stalker" the words: _He is my friend_.

"Done." She said, and handed the paper in. Even though she would receive a bad grade on it the next day, with the comment "_Lack of content"_ in her teacher's red ink, to Coraline, the paper now felt much more complete.

The instant that the teacher was out of earshot, Wybie leaned over towards Coraline and whispered, "What was that about?"

Coraline punched him again. "None of your business."

* * *

I said I wasn't fond of WybiexCoraline. I didn't say I wasn't fond of their _friendship!_ D'oh, and Coraline appreciates him! She just won't admit it to him. =P


	3. Enemies

**Enemies.**

"I AM MACHINE-MAN. FEAR ME!" Yelled a voice hidden behind a large metallic mask.

Despite this dramatic entrance, the young blue-haired girl was unimpressed. She folded her hands across her yellow jacket, rolling her eyes before narrowing them on the skeleton mask.

"Nice try, Wybie. You sound like Darth Vader."

"Really?" The mask said, the deep voice raised back up to it's regular octave.

"Mhm." She nodded, and then smirked. "But _wimpier_."

"Aw, man!" A skeleton-gloved hand pushed the mask up over his head, revealing a young black boy with an untidy mop of nappy hair. "C'mon, Jonesy, you were a_ little _scared, weren't you?"

"Puh-leeze, Wybie. There are only a few things in this world that could ever scare me, and you are _not_ one of them."

"Oh, _right_." Wybie said. "So, when we first met, you weren't even scared. _Suuuure_."

Coraline narrowed her eyes but said nothing, and Wybie knew he had hit a weak point. He shrugged, a goofy smile plastered over his face, and began whistling innocently, his hands behind his back. Coraline said nothing. So he pushed it even further:

"You were even afraid of the _cat_."

"Oh, that is_ it_!" Coraline shouted. "Machine-Man!" Wybie looked at her, and Coraline continued: "However lame your name is, I challenge you to a _duel_!"

Wybie stopped for a second, before the grin replaced itself over his face. Snapping the metallic mask over his head once more, he told her: "You're on. And...WHO IS MY CHALLLENGER?"

Picking up a thick old stick (not Poison Oak), she tapped down on the rim of her chook to make it more snug round her head, and responded in a loud, clear voice: "It is I, Coraline Jones, _The Blue Rogue_! And your butt is about to get served!"

Many days would go by where people would regale the glorious battle of The Blue Rogue and Machine Man to their parents and grandmother. And Coraline and Wybie enjoyed being enemies for a day, too.

* * *

(Lol, The Blue Rogue and Machine Man are lame names, but don't tell them I said that...)


	4. Blue

_"Blue can be both color and feeling..." _~my friend.

**

* * *

**

**Blue.**

"Why blue?" Wybie asked Coraline one day as they walked home from the bus stop. Coraline was still hesitant to take Wybie up on his offer to drive them both to school on his homemade motorbike.

"Huh?"

"Why blue hair?" Wybie specified. "I mean, why even dye it at all?"

"_Hey_!" Coraline said loudly, immediately jumping to her defense mode. "Back off my blue hair, alright? If you don't like it, too bad."

Wybie put up his hands in defense. "I didn't mean it that way. I was just curious. _Jeez._"

Dropping her stiff posture, she continued walking. After a while, she said mainly to herself, "Oh, I don't know why. Rebellion, I guess..."

"What happened?"

"Well, when they— I mean, my parents— told me we were moving away from Pontiac... I was so mad. I hated them. Really. I had friends I was leaving behind. I didn't want to move."

"Oh," said Wybie, and his shoulders slumped just a tad more than usual.

"So, I made my mom promise me that I would leave with at least _one thing,_ to remember Pontiac by_._"

"Dyed hair?" Wybie said incredulously. "And she _let_ you?"

Coraline nodded. "She probably thought that I was just gonna get highlights or something. She was pretty upset when I walked home from the barbershop with blue hair."

"How upset?"

"Well, she yelled at me, then she called Casey to ask if it could be removed."

"Who?"

"My regular barber. And she told them that it was too late to do that. And mom asked if I could dye brown again, but Casey said that it would be difficult, and it would cause damage to my hair, and that I would grow it out anyways." Coraline grinned. "Plus, when she saw how much my first dyeing cost, she practically flipped out. She grounded me for a week, but she said I could keep it."

Coraline smiled to herself, remembering her mom's exact words: "Why couldn't you just get a _snowglobe_, like any normal person?"

"But still, why _blue_?" Wybie repeated, bringing the blue-haired girl back down to earth

Coraline sighed, moving the strap of her bag more comfortably about her shoulder. "Back at home..." she confided, "me and my two best friends had a club. Just the three of us. The Three Trolls, we called it. We still are." She was whispering now: "And we swore an oath in my room...it was blue...that we would always defend the Three Trolls' name. We made a blue flag, and had an old tree house and everything, and we were about to paint it blue, when..."

She stopped talking, feeling she had said too much, her eyes fixed firmly on the dirt path beneath her ragged pink shoes.

"When they told you?" Wybie prodded helpfully. Coraline nodded.

"So..." she said, gulping. "When I found out that I wouldn't have time to paint the tree house, I decided to dye my hair blue. To remember them by."

Wybie could tell she was done talking about it, and he didn't prompt her any further. They didn't say anything else on their walk home.


	5. Sixth Sense

For all you Wybie fans out there... ;)

* * *

**Sixth Sense.**

The small, cramped bedroom was completely littered with clothes, tools, and all manner of materials, making one smelly, sloppy mess. In the thick of it all and on top of the currently cover-less bed, was a small boy with a mop of untidy hair that matched the state of his bedroom. Lying on his back, with his hands placed comfortably behind his head, he stared up at his ceiling.

Despite being up _way_ past his bed time (according to the red numbers on his mechanical clock, almost three hours), Wybie couldn't seem to fall asleep. So he just stared blandly up at his ceiling, or out his window, waiting for exhaustion to sweep over him. He had already tried multiple ways to get him to sleep: taking a mug of warm milk, counting all of the things laying about his room (he had lost count and interest at 23 items), and even kicked off the covers of his bed, now sprawled about with the rest of his priceless junk on the floor.

Something kept bringing his thoughts back to the window though. As if he needed to be outside tonight. Getting up from his bed, he gently made his way over to the window-seat again, looking through the pane glass to see the small valley that he lived in. It was February, and so the ground was a soppy, muddy wet slop, with new moss-green plants just barely beginning to bud out of the ground.

He wanted to be outside. After all, he had an enormous amount of pent-up energy in him, and a quick bike in the woods might help him be rid of it. Of course, if his Grandma found out (and he was almost _certain_ she would), he wouldn't have a very good excuse.

He turned around and walked a few paces back towards his bed, still weighing the consequences, when he heard a gentle scraping on his window. Whirling his head back around, he saw the black cat outside. Wybie sighed in relief; he hadn't seen the cat in a while... he hadn't seen Coraline much either, come to think of it. Though maybe that was because the last time he had, she had chased him out of her house like a crazy lady, throwing her shoes wildly at him, shouting and he jumped on his bike and rode away, "_You're the jerk wad who gave me the doll!_"

The cat acknowledged Wybie briefly, its blue eyes staring widely at him, the resumed rapping the window with its claws.

"Want inside, huh?" Wybie said, moving to open the window up for his feline friend. But once he had pulled the window up, the cat sat there, looking tense and anxious.

"What'sa matter?" Wybie asked, his hand still on the latch on the window. "Don't you want to come in?"

The cat simply continued to stare at him, never blinking, eyes wider than he had ever seen them before. It occurred to Wybie that he had never seen the cat with his fur standing up as it was now, its muscles tight and tense, ready to pounce.

"What'sa matter?" Wybie repeated, but the cat only gave him a flick of his tail, pointing outside.

Wybie looked over the cat, outside again. And again, he got that powerful feeling that he should be outside, but for another reason. He couldn't quite place it, but the woods looked menacing tonight. As if something else was out there, roaming the woods, where it didn't belong. Something that made the cat so on edge. Something…_dangerous_.

"Alright," he whispered to the cat, and partly to himself: "I'm coming." He shut the window again. The cat seemed to get the message, and tore down his Grandma's brown shingled rooftop towards the front porch.

Carefully opening the door to his bedroom, Wybie made sure that his Grandma was sleeping. Upon hearing her deep, rumbling snores, he allowed himself to tiptoe out of his room. He bumbled on his way down the stairs, but Grandma did not stir from her sleep. Breathing a sigh of relief, he went down the hall to the front door. Grabbing his muddy boots, he carefully unlocked the door and opened it. The cat was waiting for him, staring up at him intently.

Shoving his boots on, Wybie ambled his way down the porch steps and onto his bike. The cat made a graceful leap before landing neatly on the boy's black coat, and they set off down the dirt path through the woods.

They were going to make a night visit to the old well.


	6. Lovers

Because it _is_ Easter weekend, there won't be an update for Saturday or Sunday, mainly because I always visit my cousins around this time, and i won't have very good computer access.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Mary Poppins, _but I kinda stole a quote from it. gotta love it.

* * *

**Lovers.**

"...Can't believe we have to take Drama Class. Stupid extra-credit for stupid bad grades from stupid teachers..."

"I can't believe I got _you_ as my partner! Do you even know how to act?"

"No." The boy admitted. "You?"

"Meh, not really..."

The two shuffled around the tiny little pamphlets of plays that were showing at the Ashland Theatre down in Miss Spink and Forcible's home. Coraline's parents had insisted that Coraline take at least _one _extra-curricular activity, and Wybie needed the grade, so they found themselves both in Drama Class. Their assignment was simple: find a Shakespeare play, research it, and memorize four-to-six lines from it.

Coraline had persuaded Wybie into coming down to Miss Spink and Forcible's flat for help. The Oregon Shakespeare Festival was coming up, and despite being a little too old to participate in any of the plays, the two women liked to be informed of what plays were showing, and who played which parts, and _my_,_ isn't he handsome?_

"Here you go, luvvy," Said Miss Forcible, bringing a tray of more pamphlets, tea, and their traditional bowl of old taffy.

"Seen anything you like, Dearies?" Asked Miss Spink.

Coraline shook her head.

"Well Dahlings, you could always try something _I _was in," Miss Forcible cut in, fluffing her fake hair with a hand. "The critics simply _raved_ about me when _I_ was in a production."

Coaline nodded politely, and forced a small smile. For his part, Wybie didn't even look up at the two robust women, keeping his eyes focused solely on the small brochures, though his ears were colored a deeper shade than normal. "Do you have any more Shakespeare plays?" Coraline asked.

"What? In the mood for a bit of old William, yes?"

"Actually, it's required." Coraline told her kindly.

"Yes, yes, I think we have some more down the hall." Miss Spink said, motioning Miss Forcible to help her look.

"Thanks," Coraline said, and picked up another play pamphlet at random, opening it without even looking at the title. She read:

_Out of all of Shakespeare__'__s works,_ Romeo & Juliet _is one of his three most poetic plays ever written._..

"Hey, Wybie, look what I found!" Coraline said. Wybie scooted across the old couch to see what was in her hand.

"It says it's Shakespeare, so we could do it." Coraline told him. Together, they read silently:

_The play opens with a fierce brawl between the servants of two feuding families, both high in wealth,  
rank, and nobility. But in the midst of this conflict, a feast is held at the Capulet house, and it is only  
here where the play can truly begin, when comes two fairly innocent youth, Romeo and Juliet,  
who fall madly in love with one another..._

The two stopped instantly and turned to face each other, eyes wide as ever. But after seeing Wybie's face— his slack jaw with a bit of drool dribbling down, his wide, pale white eyes, his utter disbelief— Coraline couldn't help herself: she burst out laughing. Rolling into a fit of giggles on the couch, it took Wybie only a second to follow suit, laughing and chuckling along with her at the very_ idea_ of it.

Their laughter subsided, Coraline picked up the pamphlet and tossed it over her shoulder. She wiped a tear from her eye, still clutching her stomach from all the giggling. After all, grown-ups could be so _wierd._..

"Goodness me," said Miss Spink, as she and Miss Forcible re-entered the parlor. "Whatever is the _matter_ with you two?"

"Gone off their rocker, they have." Miriam said, bending down to confide to her shorter friend. "Dotty as you please. _Humph_!"

* * *

For all of those WybiexCoraline fans who are wondering if I was trying to trick them, the asnwer is yes, yes i was. =P


	7. Breakfast

Happy Easter Monday!Longest one-shot so far. Break out the champagne! =P

* * *

**Breakfast.**

"Raining..._again."_ Coraline sighed, as she looked outside her window, pulling her sweater down over her head, settling nicely at her hips. "And it's a _Saturday!_" Moaning over the loss of what she was sure was going to be a perfect weekend, she went downstairs to breakfast.

"Morning Coraline," said her mother, typing away on her laptop again.

"It's raining." She told her factually.

Coraline's mother looked outside, though she needn't have: the house was one-hundred-and-fifty years old; you could _hear_ the rain tapping at the windows and walls. "Mmm." She said, taking a sip of her coffee. "Cereal's in the cupboard."

Coraline breathed a sigh of relief. Dad wasn't making breakfast. He liked to try making things for breakfast like quiche with spinach, pickled eggs with sauerkraut, and other crazy ideas.

But upon opening the cupboard, Coraline found the cereal box to have a mysteriously chewed open end. Pulling it out, a handful of the last Cheerios fell from the bottom and covered the floor.

"Coraline, look at what the mess you made!" Coraline's mother exclaimed, scooting out from the dining table and coming to view it. Coraline, however, was busy inspecting the chewed opening, and for a fleeting moment, thought it might have been made by the Other Mother's rats...

Mrs. Jones took the box from Coraline and examined the opening for herself. "Hmph. Seems like this rat problem is growing. I'll have to bully your father into fixing up the walls somehow." She glanced down at her daughter, and the cheerios scattered across the floor. "In the meantime, help me clean this up."

Coraline obediently fetched the broom and pan, stocked neatly away in one of the cupboards, and she held the dust pan as her mom efficiently swept all of the cereal into it. "What am I gonna have for breakfast, then?" Coraline asked, her mind still on the cheerios box and rats.

"I don't know. What do you feel like?" Her mother asked.

Taking all of the cheerios and dumping them into the garbage can, she replied, "Can I make pancakes?"

Mrs. Jones shook her head. "Too messy. Too much work."

"I can make them myself!" Coraline insisted. "Doesn't Dad have a cookbook?"

"Yes, though he hardly ever uses it." She replied, sitting back down. "He stows it in one of the cupboards, I believe." And her keyboard tapping resumed.

Grabbing a chair, Coraline checked four cupboards before she found it, in the back of a particularly dusty area. Flipping it open, Coraline found a whole section devoted to breakfast foods, and so she started there. She noticed a few recipes that indicated her dad was not the only crazy chef out there, before she found on page 34: "_Pancakes"_. She also spotted something called _"German pancakes"_ on the page next to it, but decided that plain pancakes were safer.

Placing the book down carefully, Coraline asked, "Do we have any flour?"

"Yes, it's in the bottom-right hand drawer next to the sink."

Taking the measuring spoons down from their hook, Coraline dumped two full cups into a mixing bowl that she had found alongside the flour. She fetched the eggs, milk, and butter from the refrigerator herself, but did not know what baking powder was, so she asked her mother again.

"Probably around the flour too. I'm not sure if we even have any... it _would_ explain why your father's food doesn't rise."

Coraline smiled but said nothing, and instead looked around for the baking powder. When she didn't find it, she told her mom.

Coraline's mother looked up from her computer. "Are you sure?"

"I looked around the flour cupboard, and I didn't see anything..."

"Hmmm..." Coraline's mother said, standing up. Coraline hadn't started mixing the ingredients yet; she was probably waiting on the baking powder to begin. "Why don't you run down to Miss Spink and Forcible's and ask them to see if they have any."

Even though it took longer to get her yellow swampers and coat on than to actually get the baking powder, Coraline did as she was told, and was back in two minutes flat.

In the kitchen, in a strange sense of deja-vu, was her mother, wo had gotten out the frying pan and flicked a slab of butter onto it, where it began to melt and sizzle.

"M..mom?" Coraline said nervously, hoping and praying that she did _not_ have button eyes, or even that it was all just a dream...

"Do you have that baking powder, Coraline?" Her mother said, turning around, and Coraline gasped before she realized that there were no buttons.

"Yeah," Coraline replied, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Well, hurry up and measure it so I can cook you some pancakes. I need to get back to work soon."

Coraline measured the baking powder and tentatively placed it into the mixing bowl, and she stirred it up. She continued to look at her mother, wondering why she was helping her make breakfast. Coraline supposed that her mother didn't want her to get burned, or something of that sort.

When she was satisfied that the lumps were all gone (the recipe had required it) she handed the bowl to hermother, who poured it into the pan.

Coraline felt like she was five again, and that she was sitting on the counter in their old apartment like she used to, and her mother was making her food, just like she always did. And even though Coraline was too old to sit on the counter, she grabbed a stool and sat on it while her mother worked the frying pan.

"Could you get two plates?" Her mother asked after a minute or two, and Coraline fetched the plates and the syrup, which she always kept for emergency recipes.

Coraline's mother flopped the pancake onto the plate less-than-gracefully, but Coraline said "Thank you," just the same, smiling.

"You're welcome," Her mother replied, before pouring more of the mixture into the pan.

"Can I eat outside?" Coraline asked.

"I suppose. Just be careful with your plate, I don't want it cracked. If you want more pancakes, just come back in. Looks like you only made enough for three or four."

Coraline grabbed the syrup, her plate and fork, and hugged her mother awkwardly aroudn the waist before she headed outside. Mrs. Jones shook her head at her daughter and smiled, before resuming cooking the pancakes.

Coraline took her breakfast outside, where it was drizzling softly. Sitting down on their fortunately dry porch steps, Coraline poured her syrup and cut herself a piece.

She caught something black whiz past in her peripheral vision, and turned to see the cat next to her, a dead mouse in it's mouth. Coraline's stomach squirmed, and she swallowed her bit of pancake, dead in her mouth.

"Is that...?" she didn't say it, but the message was still clear: _Is that the Other Mother's?_

The cat shook its head gently once, before bounding away again to enjoy its own breakfast.

For her own part, Coraline continued to eat her pancake, savoring the taste of her mother's cooking, even if it was just plain pancakes with syrup. And as she stepped inside to ask her mother for another helping, she felt that today was turning out to be better than she thought it would.


	8. Parents

Because Mel & Charlie don't get enough love... _*squeeeeeeeeeee!*_

* * *

**Parents.**

"Just _think_," Mel said, staring down at her round bosom. "In a few months, we're going to be _parents_!"

Charlie sighed as he looked at his wife, tired, bloated, and more beautiful than ever. "Yeah," he sighed, rubbing his wife's stomach with the palm of his hand as she lay in bed, with him kneeling down at her side. "I've always wanted to go up to a friend, point to my kid and say, 'I made that'."

"_Charlie!"_ Mel said sternly, a blush barely visible on her cheeks.

He stood up, stretched, and yawned, and his still-gangly body made its way around to the other side of the bed. "Oh, excuse moi." Then he grinned. "You know I don't mean it."

"You wouldn't _dare_." She glared up at him.

"Not with_ you_ as their mother, no."

Mel rolled her eyes. "What are we going to name her?"

"_Her_?" Charlie repeated, looking down at his wife as he kicked off his blue monkey slippers. "What makes you think it's a _her_?"

"Mothers just know those kind of things." She said boastfully. "So, names?"

Charlie flopped down onto the bed, looking up. "Capricia?" He said, picking the first name that popped into his head.

"Ugh, no!" Mel rebuked. "What kind of name is_ Capricia_?"

"Uhhhh..." In truth, Capricia was the college girl that Charlie had a crush on. As his friends told him, all the babes were in English class...

Mel rolled her eyes. "Nevermind."

"Well," Charlie said, "While we're on the letter 'C', how about...Chloe?"

"Mmm...too popular."

"...Caroline?"

"...It's French, isn't it?"

"Welll..." Charlie mused. "My aunt _did_ like French names. My cousin's name is Caroline." He turned his head sideways to look at his wife. "You think?"

"Caroline...Caroline, Caroline..." Mel turned the word over and backwards and upside-down on her tongue. She remained staunchly up against the headboard of their rickety wooden bedframe, staring forward.. "I like it, but— "

"But what?" Charlie asked, exasperated. "You're kinda shooting down all my ideas here, Millie."

"But, really, I want our daughter's name to be unique. One-of-a-kind." Turning to face him, she frowned. "And don't call me Millie. It's Mel. Or Melanie, if you must."

He sighed. "How 'bout 'Cora'?"

Mel paused. "It's certainly unique. How'd you think of it?"

"It's in _The Last of the Mohicans. _James Fenimore Cooper." He took off his glasses, rubbed them with his shirt, and placed them alongside the alarm clock. "Used to be popular," he continued, settling back down on the bedsheets, "but the book's the only place I've ever heard of it. You never meet a _Cora_ nowadays..."

"Huh," Mel said. "That's true enough. Cora..."

"...Line?" Her husband added.

"What?" Mel asked, looking at him.

Charlie shoved his arms behind his back, and looked at Mel again: "Well, you kinda like 'Cora' and you kinda like "Caroline' and so I figured..."

"Cora-line." Mel said, slowly, methodically putting the two together. "Cora-line._ Coraline_! Charlie!" Mel reached down, grabbed his long bony face and kissed it. "You're brilliant!"

"Wow..." Charlie said. "Must've been by accident." Mel punched him playfully.

"Coraline." She said softly, patting her stomach in a soothing way, and Charlie smiled at his wife's ready, glowing face.

"_Our_ _Coraline_."


	9. Children

ever wanted to learn what "Coraline" means? well, now you can! (roughly)  
PS: please review!

* * *

**Children.**

"What does _Coraline_ mean?" Mel asked Charlie the next day, as she sat down at their small, circular dining table, perfect for two. Soon to be three.

Charlie, who was frying sunny-side-up eggs for them both, turned briefly to her, waving his spatula about. "Mel, it's _unique_. We _give_ it a meaning."

"Hmph," Mel said, folding her arms over her large, round stomach. "I won't take that for an answer." Charlie shrugged, and removing himself from egg duty, he poured both his wife and himself a cup of coffee.

"Besides," she added, "isn't 'cor' a Greek or Latin root word?"

"Yes." Charlie told her, who had taken a college course involving such roots. "It means the heart. The heart of..." Charlie began, but stopped. "The heart of what?" Leaning over, he grabbed Mel's laptop,which was situated on top of their table in their somewhat cramped apartment. Pulling it towards himself, he began to type.

"What are you doing?"

"Finding out what our girl's name means..." Briefly he glanced sideways at her. "Assuming it _is_ a girl."

"You know I'm right." Mel told him in a sing-song way.

Charlie said nothing but continued typing, clicking the mouse a few times. Mel took a sip of her coffee, her fingers warmed by the steaming mug. Moments later, Charlie looked up across at her and smirked. "Are you _sure_ it's a girl?"

"Yes."

"Because it says here that Caroline is derived from Carolus, derived from Charles, derived from Karl, which is supposed to mean _man."_

Mel set down her coffee with more force than necessary. "You're kidding me."

"See for yourself." Mel quickly grabbed her laptop from him and skimmed the website he had found. Charlie laughed as her face dropped. "But, but _here_," Mel told him, pointing feverishly to the screen, "Here is says that it may be derived from the Greek root _kari_, meaning _warrior_."

"So... _The Heart of a Warrior_...our little Coraline." Charlie put his hands back behind his head and smiled blissfully. "Can't beat a name like that..."

Just then, the sound of popping came from the frying pan, accompanied by a tinge of burning food. "Charlie!" Mel called out, too slow to stand up and reach the stove.

It took three long, gangly strides before Charlie could reach turn off the heat and remove the frying pan. He turned around, looking guiltily at his wife. "Eggs, anyone?"

Mel cocked one eyebrow in disbelief, her fingernails drumming her arms, which were folded blatantly across her chest.

Unabashed, Charlie continued: "Well, nothing a little salt and pepper couldn't fix!"

Mel rolled her eyes. "You're too much."

"Thank you!" He replied, smiling as he served her the only slightly-burnt eggs. "What'll we do if we have another kid? Won't all the good names be gone?"

"Charlie, we're busy enough as it is. And I get the feeling that this one is going to be a real handful."

"Then I know she's already living up to her mother's reputation..." Charlie said, smiling. Mel rolled up the newspaper and whacked him on the arm.

* * *

website where I found out what "Caroline" meant here_: www . behind the name . com_ (remove the spaces)


	10. Moon

incredibly short I know. sorry! i always liked this idea about Wybie though...i drew a pic. =P

* * *

**Moon.**

"Wyyybornnnne!" The old, rickety voice echoed around the valley, down to where two best friends--- a boy and a girl--- were playing.

"Whoa," The girl said, surprised as she looked around. "That time already?"

"Mmm…" said the boy, noticing the quickly fading daylight as the sun dipped beneath the clouds over the hilltop. Looking up at the giant dome that made the sky, he saw the moon make her gradual ascent into the sky. "Full moon tonight."

Coraline stared at him. "What are you, an astronomer?"

Wybie shrugged, still looking up at the moon. "My dad taught me some stuff."

"…Oh." She looked at him, trying not to appear concerned. But the fact was, Coraline had never seen Mr. Lovat before, and Wybie never spoke of him. Staring up at the bright white moon herself, Coraline couldn't help but remember an almost identical moon, that slowly, steadily began to be covered by the large shadow of a button...

"After tonight, it's gonna start on its waning period, down to a fingernail."

Coraline shivered.

"You cold?"

Coraline shook her head mutely, but Wybie understood her scrunched eyes and curled expression, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

"Sorry." He said genuinely.

"Lets just go. See ya tomorrow."

"I'll come with," offered Wybie. "My bike's still at your place anyways."

"Sure."

The two set out towards home, guided even in the dark by the pale moonlight.


	11. Black

Sorry I didn't upload on Friday. =/

* * *

**Black.**

It was one afternoon when Coraline asked: "What's your favorite color?"

"Huh?" Asked Wybie, who was currently sprawled out underneath the old oak tree. It was summer, it was hot, and until Coraline could come up with another idea of what to do (she always did) he would just lie around. Just like his wise friend the cat, who lay next to him, taking a well deserved cat-nap.

Besides, he had never known Coraline to take an active interest in his life...

"Ugh, I don't know. Just answer the question."

"Fine. It's black."

She sat up. "Black?"

"Black." He repeated dully.

"That's not even a color."

"Whatever." He rolled over once onto his side to get comfortable, then to the other side, before finally laying spread-eagle, the sweat-stains from his armpits visible. "It's sooo hot."

"You know, black is supposed to get the most heat from the sun."

"How's that s'posed to work?"

"Ugh, I don't want to explain it."

"Fine then."

They lay there for quite some time in the silence, bees humming lazily by, with not a wind to stir them and ruffle their shirts and hair. It would have been quite nice, if it weren't so unbearably _hot!_ Coraline thought. She didn't even know that Oregon, with its long, wet, drizzly winter days that it _could_ get so hot in the summer!

She tried to fall asleep, but she couldn't manage to do even _that_. Far too uncomfortable.

Rolling onto her side, Coraline squinted to see a long, green, snakelike hose not too far from her reach. And her only thought was to get to it and drink. Crawling on her hands and knees and believing herself to be a poor desert wanderer, desperate for an oasis, Coraline made her way to the hose, turned it on, and drank. She took a handful of water and splashed it over her face and the back of her neck, cooling her down considerably.

Turning around, she caught a glimpse of Wybie, still sprawled out on the ground, the cat right beside him. A glint formed in her eye, as an evil plan wormed its way into her head.

Pinching the hose with her right hand, Coraline crept over to Wybie. His eyes were closed. _Perfect._

"Hey, Wyborne!"

"WhuhhhaaaaAAAAAAGLUGGLUG!" Wybie spat out the gallons of water that was sprayed into his mouth at full blast, rolling away from his tormenter in desperation. Coraline followed him, spraying his back for extra measure, until he was out of range.

"What's wrong Wybie?" Coraline taunted. "I only wanted to help you cool down in that hot black shirt of yours."

Wybie simply glared at her, his shirk soaked all the way through, sticking to his skinny frame and dripping down to his shoes. Coraline laughed.

She stopped suddenly however, when she heard a hiss, just as the cat made a flying leap at her. He did _not _like the fact that his black coat had been drenched in water, and was _not _happy with Coraline's little prank.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Coraline wailed, ducking quickly to avoid the cat, who landed and immediately ran after her with tooth and nail. "I'm sorry! I'm _sorry_!" She called out, but to no avail.

"Serves you right, Jonesy!" Shouted Wybie, as he watched the cat chase Coraline back into the house.

* * *

D'oh. I pick on Wybie so much, I figured it was Coraline's turn. =P


	12. Star

OMG! thank you blueflower for pointing out that i uploaded the same chapter twice! gah, life's hell, ya know? =P  
...sorry, but i just _really_ like the idea of Wybie having an astronomy background.

* * *

**Star.**

Coraline looked down at the stars on her sweater; the one that her mother had cut up to patch the holes on her favorite orange polka-dot pyjamas. As much as she hated to admit it, Coraline really _did_ like the sweater the Other Mother had given her. She wished she could fix it. She wanted it _back_**.**

Shaking her head, Coraline re-folded the sweater and placed it neatly in her bottom drawer, where she kept all sorts of things she had found when exploring. The sweater remained there with the base of the broken snowglobe, along with the three empty shells where the ghost children's eyes used to be held. She closed the drawer.

Coraline walked over to her window and placed her elbows on the windowside, propping her head with both hands, staring up at the sky filled with real stars. She had a telescope in her room (it had been stuffed away in her closet), but she wasn't really interested in using it. She rather liked to look at the sky with the stars in it, not just examine the star itself, as a ball of gas millions of light years away, like she had been told by her parents. It took away the awe and wonder of stars from her, like analyzing a good bedtime story.

Her gaze drifted gently down to the tiny valley she lived in, over the tops of pine trees and grazing road. She spotted two pinpricks of light on the roadside, and she squinted to see Wybie's bike, it's lights still glowing brightly, not far from her house.

Suspicious and a bit curious, Coraline grabbed her yellow swampers and coat, and creeped down the stairs, across the hall, and outside.

She could still see the soft glow of Wybie's bike-light, so she set out to see what the heck he was doing in her yard.

Upon reaching the bike however, Coraline couldn't see anyone. She looked around, acutely aware that the bike's light gave away her position to anyone. After her journey to the Other World, the nighttime made her a bit more edgy. Slowly, she stepped backwards towards the old oak tree, away from the bike, when her boot stepped on something squishy.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Cried a voice.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Yelled Coraline, wobbling on her unsteady footing before she tripped over the figure and landed on her back. The thing clutched it's face, moaning. Coraline scooted back, until the oak tree blocked her. She stared wide-eyed at the figure as it rolled over and spoke:

"_Geez_, Coraline did you have to step on my _face_?"

Realizing who it was, the fear in Coraline's eyes flashed to hardness: "What do you mean? Didn't you _see_ me?" Her voice quivered with fury: "Why didn't you _say something!"_

"_Because_," grunted Wybie, still clutching his face, his voice muffled by his gloved hands, "I was trying to ambush you."

"Well gee, _thanks_!"

Wybie sat up, rocking back and forth like a child. "Ugh, and because of your big fat _foot_, you probably broke my nose!" He moaned.

"Oh,_ boo-hoo_, Karma!"

They were done shouting, their shock was gone, and so their voices settled down a little, Coraline still panting, Wybie gingerly touching his nose.

"What were you doing out here anyway?" Coraline snapped.

Wybie moved his jaw around, wincing a little, before sitting up straight. "Stargazing."

"What?" said Coraline, unimpressed.

"You can see a lot more stars out her than if you were in a big city." Coraline looked up, and realized that he had a point. Back in Pontiac, the sky wasn't nearly as bright, with so many stars...

"I like to try and find all the constellations." Wybie continued.

"Constellations?" Repeated Coraline, the word unfamiliar on her tongue.

"Ever heard of the Big Dipper?"

"Oh, yeah." Coraline's father had pointed it out to her, a long time ago, when they were walking. She had been five, maybe. "Doesn't it point north?"

"No, it points to the North Star, but close enough..." Wybie settled back down on his back, folding his hands behind his head. "Well, the Big Dipper isn't actually a constellation, just stars that form a shape. Can't remember the name for it. It starts with an _A,_ I think..." He caught Coraline rolling her eyes, and added hastily: "Anyways, out here, you can really see other constellations, like the Big Bear, and Taurus the bull fighting Orion."

"Oh, yeah, I've heard of that one," Coraline said, scooting over to where Wybie was. "But where's the Big Bear?"

"Well actually, the Big Dipper is part of the Big Bear," He pointed up at the Big Dipper, and connected the pattern of stars for her. "See it?"

"Yes." Said Coraline, lying on her back like Wybie, her hands on her stomach as she peered up into the sky. "And that is_ not _a bear."

"Well, it's _kinda_ like a bear, so I guess they just decided to call it that." Wybie said huffily. "And over there is where Orion fights Taurus!"

"Huh... How'd that work out for him?"

"Well, see, Orion was a hunter..."

Settling down into her comfortable bed of grass as she listened to Wybie repeating the old myths of the constellations, she gazed up at the vast world of stars above her, scattered into the midnight velvet sky. And at that moment, Coraline couldn't be more content.


	13. Fire

A very _different_ kind of one-shot for me. PLEASE review and let me know if you like this, i have an idea for a continued plot-line based off of this.

* * *

**Fire.**

She was dreaming. She_ had_ to be. But time seemed to be moving painfully slow, to the rate of a fading heartbeat…

Dumbfounded as the ambulance showed up, so many people asked her: _What happened?_ The questions were flying at her so fast, she couldn't stop and answer. She felt stunned, bewildered, speechless. All she could think of was the scene playing over and over again in her head, never to forget.

"_Get away from me_!" The words forced their out of her mouth, in a panicked scream. She was terrified, her hair felt sticky and matted to her skull, blood pounding out her head and ringing through her ears. She didn't want to answer their questions, she didn't want to talk to anyone.

"Let me see him, _let me see him_!" She had protested to the men in white coats who had taken her best friend away. They held her back; they couldn't let a mere child see such things.

"I want to see my _friend_!" She screamed again, the tears now bursting from her eyes, hot and wet down her cheeks.

She was remembering, how the boy had told her that the bike needed to be fixed, that it might be leaking, though he couldn't be sure. She had insisted on a ride anyways. She remembered long ago, how he had cautioned her of electric fences. Warned her that only the third wire was electric, and to avoid it. One touch could kill you; the third wire upwards from the ground.

Her eyes recalled the horrific last moments before it happened. Five seconds: that's all it took._ Only five seconds_…

They had been riding, laughing as the wind tickled their hair, all in the name of fun. They approached a sharp turn in the road, and Wybie was distracted with Coraline's taunts. He didn't see it, and Coraline called out to him only too late.

His bike slid down the muddy ditch on the side of the road, slippery wet from rain, with both of them still on it. Wybie struggled to steer it away from the approaching fence. An_ electric_ fence. He swerved to the left, in a desperate last attempt. Coraline was flung off of the bike, and for a brief instant in the air, she saw his dark skeleton mask, staring right at her, though she couldn't be sure.

Her stomach turned suddenly at her recollection, and she felt her knees buckle from underneath. Gloved hands caught her back and head. Muffled words echoed through her ears, as if she was drifting down a long dark tunnel: "Her head!"… "She's been hit hard!"… "_Ambulance_!"…

There were two images she saw in her mind before the world finally faded into black. A brilliant explosion of fire, and Wybie's body being pulled down…

down…

_down_

into the flames.


	14. Hours

Part two in my little plot bunny. Glad I got so many positive reviews for it!  
Umm....yay, ambiguity?

* * *

**Hours.**

"...Lucky ...alive."

"...Breathed ...smoke."

"...Can't believe ...survived ...head."

Coraline shifted slightly, her head feeling bloated and massive, eyelids too heavy to be forced open. She made no effort; she was quite comfortable, and would have dropped off to sleep again, except for the conversation being held. The voices speaking somewhere above her were quiet and soothing, and lying on her comfortable bed she tried to make out what the words meant:

"...Was out cold for ...night."

"...Good thing too ...easier surgery."

"...Six staples ...only a _child_!"

Coraline was certain that they meant her, but it took far too much energy to try and find meaning in them. She struggled to move her arms, but then realized that she couldn't feel them. Panicked, she tried wriggling her fingers, and in her struggle realized that her ragged breathing echoed back to her, hollow and stale. Using only her sense of feeling around her face, she made out a picture in her head: there was some sort of cup around her mouth and nose, and she was breathing through what felt like a long, plastic tube.

She went back to listening:

"Gas leak, they said. Ignition sparked. Hit the third wire."

"What in God's name were they _thinking_?"

"That _poor boy_!"

Coraline shifted again in her bed, trying to figure out _what was going on_, and heard a pause in the conversation. Then:

"...She's awake!"

She heard a rustle of clothes, the scooting of chairs, the trample of feet.

"Coraline! Coraline? Can you hear me?"

The voice belonged to a grown female; she sounded familiar. Coraline tried to open her eyes to see who this person was, or at least nod her head to show she understood, but all she could manage was a gentle shift under the sheets wrapped around her.

There was a downward shift on her left side; someone had sat down. She felt something warm bend down around her, cradling her head. "Oh, thank _God_!" The woman sounded as if she had been crying, and maybe was on the verge of tears again. "I thought I'd lost you..."

Slowly, Coraline mustered up her strength to open just one eye. It flickered briefly, and peering over the plastic cup fastened to her head she caught a blurry glimpse of people huddled all around her. But she wanted to see more. Feeling herself regain strength, she managed to open both eyes, and keep them open.

Held by tender and loving arms, she could see her mother's face, red and strained. Her father sat down on her right side, and gently took Coraline's small, fragile hand. His eyes were baggy from lack of sleep, but he smiled all the same.

Coraline looked between the two of them, her eyes shifting back and forth, trying to determine whether these were truly her parents with her.

Perhaps it was maternal instinct, or similar genes, or just coincidence, but her mother told her: "It's us, honey," A tear gently fell down her cheek. "It's your parents." She smiled, eyes beginning to water again.

Her father gave her hand a squeeze.

Coraline coughed, and both parents jumped. But she managed weakly: "Mom...? Dad...?"

A man in a white coat came over to her bedside. Coraline looked up. "Well, glad that she's awake!" He smiled down at Coraline, before looking at her father. "May I talk to you for a moment?"

Her father nodded, and stood up. Coraline watched him leave sadly, as he left the room. She could see all of her surroundings now. There was an awful lot of white: white sheets, white walls, white rooms. There was a sprinkle of soft yellows and blues as well, and it made everything feel very soft.

She fixed her big, hazel eyes back on her mother, who was trying very hard not to cry. She still couldn't figure out why she was in a hospital... she barely remembered anything that had happened, except...

Bolting unexpectedly out of her mother's arms, her mother sat up just as abruptly. "Wybie." She said, her voice awkward and cracking. "What...?"

"Shhh..." Her mother told her, "He's here too. He's fine." But Coraline didn't like the uncertainty looming in the depths of her mother's eyes.

Her father and the doctor in the white lab coat came back. "He says we need to go, honey."

"_What_?!" Her mother said, outraged as she stood. "She _just woke up!" _

"I'm afraid that's the problem, Mrs. Jones." The doctor said calmly. "She can't speak to anybody right now; she needs more time to rest. The surgery must still have an effect on her, let alone the after-shock of the incident..."

"Wybie." Coraline told him, trying to sit up. "Want to see...where...?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am." The doctor said, still talking to her mother. "You may sit in the lobby, but I'm about to give her some anesthetic mixed in with a hypnotic sedative, so she'll be out in another minute."

"I want to stay here." Her mother said defiantly.

"Mel..." Her father warned, gently placing his hands on his shorter wife's shoulders.

The doctor looked between the two of them, and sighed. "I can let you stay, but don't try to wake her."

Coraline's mother nodded.

But Coraline wasn't finished yet. Desperately, she tried again: "I want..."

"Now, now," he told her, placing something into a bag of water, held on a pole above her bedside. "Don't strain yourself." He gently prodded the mixture, carefully swirling it around the bag in a way that made Coraline somewhat nauseous. It was then that she noticed all of the tubes were attatched to _her_. "You must be tired."

It was true. Even that one bit of excitement had drained her of all her energy, and she allowed herself to flop back down onto her pillow, dazed.

She tried protesting, tried to tell them all that she was fine, it was _her_ fault. And what did they mean earlier when they said, _"Poor boy"_? Wybie was going to be _ok_, right...?

But she fell asleep before she could say the words.


	15. Broken

mk, so a LOT more answers in this one-shot. yay!

* * *

**Broken.**

After one full day and night of pure and blissful sleep, Coraline was designated as free to roam the hospital. And as soon as her parents figured out the paperwork and bills, they could all leave.

But she didn't want to leave. Not yet.

Wandering down the white-walled corridors of the hospital, Coraline stopped at every room, poked her head inside for a few seconds, and looked around before shaking her head and moving on. She had been told (on accident, she presumed; grown-ups liked keeping her in the dark lately) that Wybie was on the same wing of the hospital as her, though she didn't really understand what they meant by "wing." So in the comfortable pyjamas and orange socks her mother had brought her, she walked seemingly aimlessly down the halls, searching for one boy.

She was almost at the end of the corridor when she came to room 213. Looking inside, she saw an old man on the typical hospital bed. The other bed had a series of soft blue curtains around it. Curious, Coraline went inside the room and pulled back the curtains.

She almost screamed, but placed a hand over her mouth just in time to muffle it.

There was Wybie, or at least, what _looked_ like Wybie... while his body had a simple hospital patient's clothing on, his limbs were completely was covered in bandages, to the point where Coraline could barely make him out. But over his mouth, the tell-tale plastic breathing tube revealed a part of his soft brown face, and she knew it was him.

She felt like throwing up; standing there, hands still clenching on the curtains, eyes wide in shock and disbelief. _Wybie! _Her eyes scanned his body, wrapped in white bandages. His normally nappy brown hair had singed down to small, ragged tufts clinging desperately to his head. What parts of him that she could make out underneath the bandages had ugly crimson burns surrounding the clean white linen.

Something touched her shoulder, and whipping her head around she almost ran into the midrif of a white hospital uniform. She looked up into her doctor's eyes.

"I thought I might find you here."

Coraline said nothing but only stared up at him; her breathing was ragged.

The doctor said nothing, nor gave away any facial expression. Then he looked over Coraline's head at Wybie. She followed his gaze, turning around again to face her friend.

"Do you know what happened?" The doctor asked. Coraline did not respond. She had been asked that same question far too many times. At this point, she just wanted to be left alone.

"The ignition in his motorcycle sparked just as it grazed the electric wire," He told her. "It lit the gas, and with the bike's compression, it exploded."

"Why are you telling me this?" Coraline asked him, choking back tears. "You don't have to tell me what happened. I was there..." She was reaching her limit, but exhaled, trying to regain composure. "I caused this. It's my fault he's even _in here._" Finally, she whirled around to face him, and screamed: "_Don't you pretend to know what happened_!"

The doctor looked at the door. It was open, just as it should be. Someone would have heard. Her parents have been looking for her. Well, they'd find her, all right.

He turned his head back down to the little blue-haired, teary-eyed girl in front of him. Bending down, he looked at her eye-level, face to face, and spoke in that same calm manner: "You know how that boy survived?" He asked. Coraline stopped crying, eyes wide. For a moment, she forgot to be mad.

"When they found him, they quickly assessed that he had suffered minor injuries, compared to what could have happened. If it weren't for his coat and mask, he might have been burned alive." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm telling you this," He said finally, "because you need to know that it's not your fault." Then he smiled. "He will get better."

At that instant, a nurse and the two Jones parents stepped into the room. The doctor stood up. "She found him." He said simply. Then he loked at the faces of Mr. and Mrs. Jones. "I was trying to comfort her, but perhaps a parent can handle such situation better." And he gently prodded Coraline towards her mother, whom she embraced.

It was time to go.

"You may come and visit your friend during visiting hours." The doctor told her. Coraline nodded, and the ghost of a smile passed her lips.

At this point, that was all she could hope for.

* * *

should i end it here? should i continue the plot? Review, and tell me what you think!


	16. Strangers

AUTHOR'S NOTE: there will be no Sunday upload, sry!  
D'oh. this plot just got slightly more complicated...

* * *

**Strangers.**

The following morning Coraline made her way down to the kitchen for breakfast. She heard her mother and father's voices echoing aroung their marble dining room. Coraline almost slid open the door, but her hand paused as she made out her father's calm voice: "They want Coraline to come."

"_What_?" Her mother replied. "You can't be serious!"

"They most certainly are," replied her father.

"But she's only a _child_! What could the judge want with her?"

Up until this point, Coraline had been thinking about going back upstairs for a while. But now she was curious. Silently, she opened the slide door to a thin crack, just enough for one eye to peer at the scene happening inside:

"She's a witness. She's being asked to testify." Her father smacked a white letter on their small round table. "It's as simple as that, Mel."

"No, it's not." Her mother said defiantly, arms crossed over her chest. "They already _know_ what happened. There are others who can testify: the Wilsons were on their front porch when it happened; it was _their fence_ that Coraline and Wybie ran into! Why do they need her _specifically_? I don't want my daughter being questioned by a bunch of lawyers—"

"Look at this, Mel. We hardly have a choice in the matter. She _has_ to go to the trial."

"Charlie, I won't—"

"_Dammit_, Mel!" The bang of a fist resounded throughout the room. Coraline flinched at the sound; she had _never_ seen her father angry, much less cuss at her own mother... "That Lovat boy almost _died_. Do you hear me? And all because he had a motorcycle. I don't know if you realize this, but kids aren't allowed to be riding motorcycles around at the age of _eleven_. A mere child with a _motorcycle_? The state of Oregon is obviously going to look into it."

There was a lengthy pause. Judging from her face, Mel had never seen her husband cuss either. Or at least, not to _her_. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she whispered: "But what will she even _say_?"

Scooting a chair out from under the table, Coraline's father sank haphazardly into it. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed the bridge of his nose, his brows strained close together in anger. He looked up. "The truth. That's all she can do." He paused, and exhaled. "...Even if it means testifying against Mrs. Lovat."

Coraline gasped.

"Grandmothers just aren't supposed to let kids have motorcycles." Her father chuckled a little, though there was nothing funny about the situation, and he knew it. "I don't have a clue how high the stakes are for her right now; how much she can lose..." Placing his glasses on the table, his gaze hardened. "But if nothing else, she will almost certainly lose custody of Wybie."

Coraline couldn't believe it. Stepping back slowly, she whipped herself around and ran back up the stairs. Her mother called out to her, the worry clear in her voice, but Coraline didn't hear. She refused to listen. Those were not her parents in there, talking of Mrs. Lovat and Wybie. Those were strangers, people she didn't know.

She slammed her bedroom door behind her, and did not come out for a very long time.


	17. She

Gahhhhhh, sorry! Monday turned out to be a LOT busier than i thought it would.  
In other news, my play (Much Ado About Nothing) opens Thursday. YAY!!!!

* * *

**She.**

Over the next two weeks before the hearing, Coraline busied herself with visiting Wybie in the Ashland Community Hospital. She could never quite get over just how bruised and scarred he was. She brought him red tulips from the garden, placing them at his bedside in a dirty, old, opened beer bottle she found on the roadside while she was exploring. It scandalized the nurse though, so they replaced it with a more "suitable" vase.

That was her entire routine: get on the bus to the hospital after school, enter room 213, replace his tulips if necessary, and say "See you tomorrow, Wybie." Then she left.

Coraline had hoped that one day, she might walk in, and Wybie would be sitting up, his slouch still visible, perhaps laughing with the nurse or planning to pull a prank, something to do with bugs. Maybe they would talk and talk and talk about how this all happened, and now that he was okay Mrs. Lovat wouldn't need to go to jail. Maybe he would answer when she said, "See you tomorrow, Wybie."

But after eleven days of the same routine, with no response from a boy in a seemingly never-ending coma, the little eleven-year old girl began to break.

So on day eleven, she began to have small conversations while sitting next to him. She told him about her day: what happened in school today, and how she was holding all of his homework, because Gramma Lovat expected good grades from him. She never told him that Mrs. Lovat was in trouble.

On day twelve, she told him of all the adventures he had missed out on with her and the cat, but that was okay, because as soon as he woke up, they would have more adventures, go explore something else.

And on day thirteen, she told him that when he got better, they would run around the hospital, disregarding all the _Keep Quiet _signs that she loathed. But she obeyed them right now, because Wybie was still here, in bed, not talking to her.

Not getting up.

Not moving....

Barely breathing....

Something hot and wet fell off of Coraline's freckled cheek onto Wybie's hair. Then another, and another.

"Wybie..." She choked. "Wybie, _please. _Wake up. _Please_ wake up?" She stopped gripping his arms, realizing just how shaky hers really were. "They want me there tomorrow, at the court, and I don't wanna be there with everyone looking at your grandma like she's done something wrong. I want you to be there, and tell them that..." Another hot tear rolled down her cheek. She kept her eyes closed, her fists clenched. "That it's really my fault that you're like this. Not hers. Not grandma Lovat's. Mine... All my fault..."

* * *

Coraline was shaken awake by a strong but gentle hand. Opening her eyes, she found her head lying next to Wybie's. She turned around to look up into the doctor's face.

"You know, we could've gotten you your own bed." He told her jokingly. Coraline simply sat up, her face feeling red and sore, especially around her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said consolingly, "were you crying?"

"No." Coraline said stubbornly, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

The doctor paused. "Sorry, but it's five o'clock now. Visiting hours are over." He looked at her, concerned: "Your parents must be worried sick."

"They know where I am."

"Yes, well," The doctor said uncomfortably, well aware that she was eleven and it was getting dark, and if her parents weren't going to bother picking her up... "Would you like a ride home? The bus doesn't operate long after five."

"I'm not supposed to get into cars with strangers."

"Yes, that's right, isn't it?" She said nothing in response, only looked up at him, blinking. "Would you like me to call them for you?"

The little girl paused, then said, "Yes, please."

"Good then. I'll let you know when they've arrived."

"Thanks."

She turned back to Wybie. He was the epitome of serenity, and something about the situation made her calm and agitated all at the same time; partly because his presence was soothing, partly because he wasn't awake.

The doctor rushed back in. "Well, seems like your mother was so worried, she decided to pick you up. She was already in the lobby, trying to get in."

Coraline nodded her head, before turning back to Wybie. It was the last time she'd see him before she would stand up on the witness podium, and tell everyone everything, exactly what happened.

"See you, Wybie." She said again. Then she got up from the bed and made her way to the door. The doctor smiled, and stepped out.

Closing the door, Coraline left it open just a crack, one eye still peeking though, and whispered, "Get well soon."


	18. Storm

i'm ba-ack! *is hit with a flying rotten tomato* ...ok, ok, but my cousin has been in the hospital for the past two weeks, my play just got finished but we might do 2 more performances, and i had 2 major projects to do, one of which is still not finished. I HAVE REASONS!

A/N: The vernacular speech used by Mrs. Lovat here was not intended to be racist. This is honestly the way I heard her talk from her one line in the movie: "Ah _know_ wheah Ah'm goin'. Ah grew up heah!" I loved it so much, and I felt the need to keep it. Squeeeeeeeeeee!

* * *

**Storm.**

"Coraline, you should eat, it's a big day." Her mother told her. The little eleven-year old simply continued to dunk her spoon up and down in her bowl of cereal.

The morning passed by so quickly, Coraline felt that she had only caught pictures of it. Already it was time to go. _Where was Mrs. Lovat now_? She wondered. Wybie isn't up. Wybie isn't coming to help me. It's just me. All alone. Against Mrs. Lovat. Wybie's grandma.

The ride to the courthouse was a drizzly downpour, with Coraline's heart racing with nervousness. They made their way past security, where Coraline felt very much invaded and examined, as if they were preparing her, a little white test mouse.

She sat in the very first row, on the hard wooden bench, between both of her parents. She allowed herself to slump almost out of sight, till all you could see was her blue hair and big hazel eyes peeking out, darting from side to side.

She was_ not _nervous, she was_ not_...

"Please rise for the Honorable Judge..."

Her knees were literally knocking as she rose out of her seat. _Not nervous, not nervous..._

"Please be seated."

She could picture Wybie next to her, dressed in his typical black overcoat, some bug or twig tangled in his hair even inside a neat and tidy courthouse, in his usual, laid-back slouch. "You are _so_ nervous, Jonesy!" He whispered, a smirk plastered across his mouth like it always did.

"In the case of the State of Oregon versus Lovat..."

Oh, how she wished he was here. Even if Coraline was condemning his grandmother to who-knows-what, she would rather have him see it than explain it to him.

"...The opening statements for the State."

A man in a very tidy black pinstriped suit came forward. He was a young, attractive man, with wavy hair. "Our country is dedicated to caring for and protecting our young children..." Instantly, Coraline decided that she didn't like him.

"It is the State of Oregon's _responsibility_ to provide the best care possible for a child so that it might become a model young citizen..." The way the man talked, Coraline could barely understand what he was saying. It was annoying, and she was pretty sure that they were plotting to keep her out of the loop. "We must help guide our youth; this is why we have the education system, this is why we value family..." Coraline rolled her eyes. "...But when these values are threatened, it is the right and duty of the Law to amend this, for the sake of the child." The man nodded a thank you to show he was finished, and returned to his seat.

Coraline's stomach squirmed. Even if the man was completely fake and see-through to _her,_ the judge might not think so.

Mrs. Lovat's lawyer came up and said her bit, and while she seemed much more down-to-earth, she didn't have as pretty-sounding of a speech. Nor did she look particularly interested in being up there. There were great big bags underneath her eyes...

Her father muttered underneath his breath towards Mel; Coraline strained to hear: "...'Right to a lawyer', for sure. Tax lawyer. And they can't even get a decent one at that!"

Coraline's eyes darted nervously back to the judge, not wanting to hear any more. "Will the State make their opening arguments?"

"Think they'll call her up to the podium?" Mel asked Charlie.

"Dunno," he answered truthfully. "All depends..."

The man got up again. "Thank you, your Honor. I would like to call before this court Mrs. Mary Jean Lovat."

Mrs. Lovat stood up in her pink dress, old and frail and a mite nervous. She retained a certain strength in the way she carried herself as she refused any help, shuffling indignantly past the young well-dressed lawyer up to the podium.

They took out a Bible, and as Mrs. Lovat placed her wrinkled brown hand over it, the court re-enacted a scene Coraline remembered only from adult shows and old movies: "Do you, Mary Jean Lovat, solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?" The policeman rattled off.

"By God, Ah do."

"Be seated." Mrs. Lovat sat.

"Mrs. Lovat, you are the caretaker of Wyborne Lovat, is that correct?"

"Yessuh."

"And how long have you had custody of Wybie?"

"Come July, it'll b' seven years."

"And what age was Wyborne at the time?"

"Six."

"Had he ever been around mechanics before? Power tools?"

"His fathuh would take him into the garage when he wuz still livin' wiv 'im."

"His _father_?" The man paused, looking quizzically at her, looked around at the crowd, and back to her. "And do you know what went on when they went to the garage?"

"No, suh. Ah wuz keepin' t' th' house."

"After the father left, did you ever hear your grandson handling such tools in the garage?"

"Ah could heah powah tools bein' used."

"And you were never bothered by the fact that your grandson might be handling hazardous and potentially life-threatening tools—"

"Objection, your Honor." came a loud, clear voice, effectively halting the bickering between Mrs. Lovat and the opposing lawyer. It was Mrs. Lovat's lawyer, who finally stood up.

"Yes?" Said the judge.

"The case of State versus Lovat deals with a child's possession of a motored vehicle when he does not own a driver's license, and is not of legal driving age—"

"The motored vehicle in question was not manufactured by any company," the man countered, "and so, the use of power tools to create a motored vehicle is important."

"The use, if proven, of power tools is irrelevant to this case."

The man stopped, and Coraline did a little dance on the inside.

The judge nodded slowly, then turned to the other lawyer. "In view of this, would you like to continue your interrogation of Mrs. Mary Jean Lovat?"

"Yes your Honor; I was leading up to my point."

"Please make it then."

"Yes, your Honor." He turned back to Wybie's grandmother, and Mrs. Lovat's lawyer sat down again.

"Mrs. Lovat," he started up again gears grinding, "Did you ever encourage your grandson to associate with motored vehicles?"

"No, suh. Mah son Wassim wuz always th' one t' get Wyborne excited 'bout mechanics."

The judge spoke: "And is Mr. Wassim Lovat here?"

"No, your Honor." The lawyer replied. "I was unaware of this information until today."

The judge turned to Wybie's grandma. "And where is your son?"

"South o' heah, in th' San Francisco Bay Areah..." She paused, then added: "Doin' time." She looked around sternly, as if daring them to condemn her _or_ her son.

"Very well, until we can get Mr. Wassim up here, or until the child is well again..." The judge looked meaningfully beyond Coraline's head. She turned her around: it was the doctor from the hospital.

He stood up and walked over to the judge. Together they had a brief whispered conversation. The doctor returned to his seat, and the judge continued: "Until that time when Mr. Wassim can be transported from San Francisco to Ashland, this court is in recess." The wooden gavel smacked down, and instantly the tension evaporated. Coraline breathed a sigh of relief. Grandma Lovat was safe from the storm, for now.

Coraline swivelled her head around again to see the doctor, still in his white coat. "Why are you here?"

"They asked me to come." The doctor replied easily, smiling as he stood up.

"What'd you tell the judge?"

"_Coraline_!" Her mother warned, grabbing her things and feeling almost as relieved as her daughter. Coraline continued to look up at him, waiting expectantly for an answer.

"Well, I can't tell you that." Coraline huffed, folding her arms across her chest. "But I _can_ tell you this." He bent down to almost her height, looked her right in the eye, and whispered: "He's awake."

* * *

I had a lot of stress over this particular chapter, so please review and tell me what you think!


	19. He

**He.**

Coraline burst through the doors of the hospital, ignoring every _No Running _sign in sight. She skidded at the turn, tore up the stairs to the second floor, almost knocking down a poor nurse in the process, and dashed away again to room 213, her shoes echoing down the hallways. Sliding to a stop, Coraline opened the door and charged into the room.

There was Wybie, looking dazed and falling back to sleep again. "Wybieeee!" Coraline exclaimed, and he turned his head an inch in her direction.

He looked at her, cracked a feeble smile, and said softly, "Hey, Jonesy."

Coraline pounced on his bed. "You're up! Bet'cha don't know how long you've been in here, huh? You'll never _guess- _" Wybie was currently too shocked to make any reply: first, he was exhausted, and second, he had never seen Coraline so happy to see him.

"Jonesy…gerroffome…" He said weakly.

"Oh, sorry!" She said, still giddy as she slid off his bedside.

"Mmph." He replied, still happy to see her. "Hit my head…" He mumbled.

"Yeah, I know. How ya feeling?"

Wybie shifted a little in his bed. "Alright. Uhmm…" He managed.

"So what did you hear, about…" Coraline started, and then she stopped just as suddenly. She didn't want to tell him. She _couldn't_ tell him that his grandma was on trial. That she was the one responsible for it. Coraline had never been chicken before, but she just _couldn't_ say it to his face.

"Nevermind…" She muttered. "How've you been? What do you remember?"

"Jonesy, I just woke up… they gave me some Sprite and a sandwich… and they told me that I'd been asleep for fourteen days, and that I've gotta stay here 'til they're sure I'm okay… then I watched some movies, and I was gonna go back to sleep, but you woke me up." He smiled.

"Okay, but do you remember?"

Wybie cocked his head comically to the side, the bandages restraining him from too much movement. "Remember what?"

"You mean…" Coraline said, all the warmth draining from her face, "You mean you…?"

"What'cha talking 'bout Jonesy?" Wybie asked. "I hit my head, that's all."

"But…" Coraline stuttered, "But the accident!"

"What accident?"

Coraline couldn't believe it. What was wrong with him? "The accident! You, me, the bike! The fence!" Wybie sat, looking at her blankly. "Wybie, you don't rememeber at all...? You almost died in a _fire_!"

As the last word escaped her lips, Wybie's brown eyes opened wide. As if he wasn't here, but was somewhere else entirely. He broke out into a cold sweat, shivering. Coraline gasped and backed away as Wybie let out a scream in terror at a scene only _he_ could see: an explosion all around him, flames licking his body, burning him, singing his flesh and breathing in toxic gases as he remembered every detail.

The nurse that Coraline had bumped into before came rushing into the room, and in an instant she took in the whole scene: the boy screaming at the top of his lungs, the girl backing away, wide-eyed in horror. Grabbing the hypodermic needle on his bedside table, the nurse hastily read the label, pushed the girl out of the way while sanitizing the needle, and in one fell stroke injected its contents into the boy. The boy gasped, shuddered for a moment, and dropped back onto the pillows. He didn't make a sound.

Letting out a long sigh of relief, the nurse turned to where the little girl had been, to ask what had happened. She was curled up in the corner, whimpering, her face buried in her arms, her mop of blue hair a curtain to hide her eyes.

The nurse decided to be sympathetic.

"Hey honey, are you alright?" She asked soothingly. The girl shook her head.

"He'll be okay, don't worry," She reassured. The girl looked up. Her hazel eyes were wide with fear at what she had just witnessed.

"What..." Coraline whispered, pleading, "what _happened_ to him...?"

"It's my fault." The doctor's voice came from somewhere above Coraline. "I should have warned her, or at least her parents." Coraline looked up to see the nice doctor in the doorway, with her mother and father right behind him.

"Young lady," the doctor said, kneeling down next to her, "I know you're excited for your friend. But right now he can't handle too much all at once. He needs to take it slow. You may still come in and visit and talk with him." He looked her straight in the eye. "But you _cannot_ talk to him about what happened that day."

Coraline nodded slowly, still frightened. "Will... will he be okay?"

"Oh, he'll be fine." The doctor said, back in his usual calm and content mood. "A few hours and he'll be up again."

"Coraline, do you want to stay?" Her mother asked.

Coraline looked back at Wybie, one the bed, sleeping blissfully in his ignorance. He was back, but not all of the way. She was still alone, and her hope was broken in two.

"No." She said. "I'll come back tomorrow."

This was not how she planned their reunion at all.

* * *

It's official. I'm a sadist. D=


	20. Shade

Incredibly late. finals & vacation. sorry bout that. here's a nice big chapter for you.

* * *

**Shade.**

Two days after the trial commenced for recess, Coraline was called again to court. Mr. Lovat had arrived.

At first, Coraline didn't see him in the courtroom.

"All rise..."

Coraline peered through the various bodies to try and find someone who looked like Wybie, or even Mrs. Lovat.

"Be seated."

Coraline still couldn't see him, wedged between her protective parents.

Mrs. Lovat's lawyer stood up. "I would like to call upon the court Mr. Wassim Lovat."

A door that she hadn't noticed before opened up. A small clink and rattle of chains echoed through the chamber, and she saw the handcuffs around his large, dark, calloused hands. In walked a man in a simple mottled gray uniform, accompanied by two guards on either side. There was no slouch in his neck, no pudge to his cheeks. Coraline searched his face for any emotion, any resemblance to Wybie. His dark brown eyes stayed forward as he walked solemnly up to the witness stand, taking his sweet time.

One thing was for sure: Wybie took after his mother.

Raising his right hand, the policeman rattled off the speech. Mr. Lovat responded quietly,"I do." The state's lawyer quickly took center stage.

"Mr. Lovat, how long have you known Wyborne Lovat?"

"Five years."

"Since his birth?"

"Yes."

"And... did you ever spend time with him?"

"Yes."

"What sort of activities?"

"Well, he'd sit in the garage while I'd work."

"So you were a mechanic?"

"Yes."

"And you were okay with your son sitting around power tools?"

"Objection, Your Honor." Mrs. Lovat's lawyer stood up. "The court has already discussed the issue of power tools in this case and has found it to be irrelevant."

"Your Honor," interjected the state lawyer, "By questioning Mr. Lovat I am trying to understand Wyborne Lovat's previous experience with motored vehicles. You are a car mechanic, Mr. Lovat, are you not?"

"Motors? Yes."

"Well then," the state lawyer said, addressing the judge, Mrs. Lovat's lawyer, and his entire captive audience, "Isn't it conceivable that Wyborne Lovat's familiarity with such vehicles may have led to his usage of a motorcycle?"

The judge looked from the state lawyer to Mrs Lovat's lawyer to Mr. Lovat, who remained quiet.

Round two? Point goes to the state lawyer.

"Mr. Lovat, I will repeat the question since we were interrupted. Did you allow your son to sit around power tools?"

"I saw no problem. Boy's got a right t' be curious, don't he?"

The lawyer smiled. "Did your son help you around the garage?"

"Yes."

"How did he help you?"

"Carry my stuff."

"Could you be more specific?"

"Power tools?"

"Yes."

"Would it be fair then to say that Wyborne Lovat handled power tools?"

For the first time, Mr. Lovat paused, a hard glint flashing across his dark brown eyes. He stared intently at the lawyer, then replied through gritted teeth: "...Yes."

Nodding, the state lawyer continued, "And did your mother, Mrs. Lovat, know about it?"

Another pause, and Coraline tried to read what was going on behind those dark brown eyes. "...You mean me letting him handle tools?"

"Yes, did Mrs. Lovat know that you allowed Wyborne Lovat to handle power tools?"

Coraline closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, fists clenched at her sides.

"No."

"But she _did_ know that you two worked in the garage together."

"Yes."

"And she _did_ know that your line of work required the use of power tools?"

"Yes."

Smirking triumphantly, the state lawyer turned around and walked back to his seat. "No further questions, your Honor."

Coraline looked at the man who claimed to be Mr. Lovat: son to Mrs. Lovat, father to Wybie. She didn't understand... why wasn't he fighting for them? How could he sit up there so calmly, and just take it?

Why wasn't he fighting for his own _family_?

Mrs. Lovat's lawyer took the floor. She didn't look at the man in the podium, pacing herself as she walked to the center. Without looking at him, perhaps preferring to speak to the marble floor beneath her, she said, "Mr. Lovat, you said that your mother did _not_ know that you let your son handle power tools?"

"Yes." He watched as she slowly walked around the room, seeming to tread through glass, or walking on thin ice.

"So she did not partake in your work with machinery." The lawyer said slowly, evenly, gesturing to herself. "In other words, she did not influence Wyborne Lovat to use or become familiar with motored vehicles?"

His brown eyes continued to follow her. "No."

"Mrs. Lovat did not encourage Wyborne to use such tools?"

"No."

"Then could it be construed," the lawyer said, walking towards him, "That the sole influence of Wyborne Lovat's familiarity, experience, and usage of power tools, all of which presumably led to his illegal driving of a motored vehicle..." She finally looked up at him, into his deep brown eyes. "Was you?"

Mr, Lovat stared at her for a long time. Coraline swore she saw him snatch a glance at his mother, so she looked at her. She remained immobile and unaffected, though her knuckles had grown fairly pale, and the veins poking out from her craggy skin were strained from something more than age.

Mr. Lovat exhaled, and finally nodded his head. "Yes."

The court was quiet as the lawyer walked back. "No more question, your Honor."

"Very well." Replied the judge, "Mr. Lovat, you may leave the podium."

Mr. Lovat stood up as the two guards came forward again, and the clinks of chains rattled again. Coraline stared at him. She was almost certain that she understood what had just happened, but now found herself wishing that it hadn't.

The _tap tap tap_ of army boots and the _clink-clink_ of handcuffs echoed across the room as the guards began to lead Mr. Lovat out. He turned his head to look at the crowd, and for an instant deep dark brown eyes locked with the hazel eyes of a child. For a moment, it felt like he knew exactly who she was and what part she played in this ugly game.

The judge spoke again: "The court will now call upon Ms. Coraline Jones to witness."

And suddenly, Coraline felt very, very small.


End file.
